


The Better One Gets

by shouldbeover



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-16
Updated: 2011-11-16
Packaged: 2017-10-26 03:44:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/278305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shouldbeover/pseuds/shouldbeover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt: Mycroft and Lestrade and a working fireplace</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Better One Gets

They say that skiing is a sport where the better one gets, the more dangerous it becomes.

For the most part, Greg wanted to pay his share around Mycroft, and for the most part, Mycroft let him. However, when they both managed to wrangle some vacation time, Mycroft didn’t want to waste it by skimping.

Greg had never been to the Swiss Alps, which Mycroft thought a crime, so he rented a chalet, packed up his skis, and carted Greg along.

Greg had no skis and didn’t know how to ski.

Undaunted, Mycroft purchased skis (renting skis is an abomination) and hired an instructor, and Greg dutifully went down the beginner trails, finding that he _did_ enjoy the exhilaration and the solitude that skiing afforded, while Mycroft went down the advanced trails enjoying showing off for his lover.

And so it was that when Mycroft broke his ankle, Greg ended up waiting on him in the little cottage—everything from fetching firewood and cooking to helping him bathe with the cast carefully wrapped in plastic.

“I don’t quite see why we couldn’t stay in a hotel,” said Greg, coming in frost covered with another load of wood. Then you could order room service, go to the spa, etc. I mean we’re here, why not do it all?” He placed the logs next to the fireplace and shed his snow-covered outerwear.

Mycroft sighed and put down his newspaper (even on vacation, one has to stay abreast of things, even though he didn’t deign to do anything so crass as ‘check the internet’). “One comes to Zermatt to get away from the world, Greg. One rides in the horse-drawn carriages and takes the train up the mountain. Why spoil it by staying in a hotel where one might as well be in the middle of London. No, the only way to truly enjoy Zermatt is to be a local.” He went back to his reading.

Greg scowled. “I think you’re just enjoying having me wait on you like a peasant and his master.”

“Yes, Greg,” responded Mycroft drily. “I deliberately broke my ankle so that I could exert my class superiority.”

Pausing as he added another log to the fire, Greg said in a low voice, “Sometimes I do worry, My, that I’m your entertaining bit of rough.”

Mycroft put his newspaper down on the floor next to the sofa. “Greg, come here. Put down the poker and come here. The fire is fine, more than fine, lovely.”

With a bit of a hangdog expression, Greg joined Mycroft on the sofa. “I know I’m not, My. It’s just…the cost of this place, the skis, the lessons. I feel a bit kept. And when I meet some of your friends…”

Mycroft tilted his head and gave the chiding twist of his lips that Greg knew so well. “First, they aren’t my friends, they are my colleagues. I have few friends, and they haven’t met you. Yet. Second, these are gifts—the skiing, the vacation. Gifts to show…my love for you. Because at any second you could walk away—literally and figuratively at this moment—because I’m not sure how I managed to convert a straight boy like you. A gorgeous straight boy like you.”

Greg leaned back against the arm of the sofa so that he could pull Mycroft against him, the broken ankle stretched out on the floor. “My God, you’d never guess that we’re both so insecure—weren’t we supposed to get over this in adolescence?”

“Confidence is like bravery, Greg. If you have too much of it, you’re an idiot. If you aren’t aware of your own failings and insecure every now and then, you aren’t being realistic. And we both need to be realists in our jobs. Perhaps it wears us down. Shall we agree to not be insecure about our love for one another any more?”

“Sounds like a plan. For the record, Mycroft, I find you very attractive.”

“And I find you one of the most brilliant and capable men I’ve ever known. Now, if you don’t mind fetching us some hot chocolates, I think that even with the cast, I might be able to warm you up, more than the fire.”


End file.
